


I'm Happy Right Here

by whataboutpierre (sunflowerwithfeelings)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anti-Religious Content, Falling In Love, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Jehanparnasse if you squint, Kissing, M/M, Modern Era, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Pining Enjolras, Road Trips, and there was only one bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 10:18:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16742155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowerwithfeelings/pseuds/whataboutpierre
Summary: Flipping it back over, she ripped it directly down the middle, putting the two pieces together and ripping those in half. Grantaire tried to stop her, reaching for the postcard that was now in a million tiny pieces. The only thing she handed back was the intact address of where he was going.“You don’t need anything else. Go and come back,” she said putting the small piece of card stock into his hand.-Grantaire takes Enjolras on a road trip across the USA before the holidays to visit his parents he hasn't seen in a little over seven years, and for good reason.





	I'm Happy Right Here

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna warn yall NOW before this even starts that there are some heavy themes in this story. It has an over arching message of how people you share closer bonds with can be more important than blood relatives but not without diving deep into Grantaire's past. I self-project onto Grantaire heavily, so a lot of this was written as more of a coping mechanism than anything else. We don't know a whole lot about canon Grantaire's past/childhood and I like to believe that who you grow up around and who raises you has a strong impression as to who you become, whether they push you towards or away from whatever they value. It's not explicitly mentioned either but it is implied that Grantaire's parents are of faith and I would like to disclaim that I am not against anyone who is. I know how much faith and worship mean to people and I'm not trying to invalidate it by any means. Another disclaimer is I've never traveled from New York to Los Angeles, like ever. All of this was done via Google Maps and Images, as well as the hotels websites and the lovely people of Yelp. 
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read this introduction because I didn't want to include one in the story as I felt like it might take away from its contents. Enjoy!

It’d been a chilling couple of months in New York, the calendar creeping closer and closer to December. It was someday in late November, Grantaire wasn’t exactly sure which one it was. It was the kind of cold with howling winds and stinging cold fingers. He crossed his arms as he braced himself against the wind, his untamed hair flying as far as it could in all directions. He hopped the steps to his apartment and down the concrete hall, fumbling with frozen fingers to find a key to open the door.

His apartment was normal in size, relatively open compared to his friends who stacked three to four people inside with stuff owned by each splayed out in an array of different patterns. Which is to say that Grantaire lived alone, the occasional stray cat to befriend him making the only exception. Back when he was a young spitfire in college, he roomed with Bossuet, Joly, and Musichetta since money was tight but since getting a formal job and paying off loans, he had enough room in the budget to move out. The three had lingering concerns about that, making damn well sure he knew their door was open anytime he needed someone to just simply be around. But he could manage, he always had.

Grantaire threw his keys onto the kitchen counter and turned on the tall and skinny speaker that doubled as a radio that sat in a corner of the living room. Instead of waiting around for a bluetooth connection right away, he changed it to a radio station that he knew, unfortunately on commercial break, and let the noise ring throughout the apartment, stripping himself of his scarf and outer jacket. They continued as he made his way to the bathroom and changed into his comfortable pajamas, the fluffy ones he’s had for years and always busted out during the winter months. He slid back around to the kitchen in his socks, opening a cabinet and picking his favorite, his only, mug.

“This is your number one hit music station…” the radio chimed as he poured water into the mug and stuck it in the microwave, himself being in the mood for tea on the cold evening. 

In the background, a song played through the speaker from the radio that had an upbeat to it. Casually, Grantaire started nodding his head to the rhythm when he stopped, his eyes glazing over as he heard the first words of the song. He stood frozen, the modernized but traditional words of “O Come, All Ye Faithful” covered by Pentatonix rang out. The microwave beeped, his arm reaching up to open the door and get the mug out. Grantaire put the mug down on the counter with a thud, harder than he intended too but the clacking of porcelain on granite echoed. Forcefully, he opened the door to the small pantry, his grip on the door knob tight enough for potential white knuckles he was familiar with in what seemed like a lifetime ago. He grabbed the small box of tea bags and plucked one out, ripping the paper and peeling it away, throwing it away in the trash and letting the bag steep in the hot water. At this point in the song, the second verse was leading into the chorus and Grantaire walked over, emotion void in his eyes as he switched stations, a more modern song replacing the old one. He stood over the speaker for a second. Staring at the electronic white numbers and trying not to think anything at all in that moment.

Thanksgiving was a week ago, he spent it with Bossuet, Joly, and Musichetta as well as Éponine and her siblings. It was wholesome and everything it was supposed to. But this, this is when he truly knew it was the holidays.

 

* * *

 

Enjolras has a knack for overhearing people’s conversations, it was a perk of being a successful lawyer. The “meetings” him and his friends used to have at the back of a cafe near the campus of the college they all went to morphed into a weekly get-together at a small pub or bar they all agreed on, mostly with the help of Courf who ended up being the world best party planner and knower of all good hangout spots. Jehan, however, claims it's an art he stole from them.

Grantaire was sitting with Jehan and Éponine at the other end of the table, occasionally talking to Courfeyrac who, of course, ended up sitting in the middle of the chaos that reigned across the three-tables-made-into-one. Enjolras could make out small phrases and words they murmured to each other, but nothing seemed to fit together.

“You’re sure you can’t come?” Grantaire asked Jehan who shook their head, strands of ginger hair falling to the side of their face. 

“Yea, I’m on lockdown for the next couple of months. My publisher wants a new book by the beginning of summer. Plus Parnasse has something planned-“ Grantaire shook his head with playful disgust and Jehan punched him in the arm for it. “Stop it!”

Combeferre studied Enjolras’ posture and focus, halting what he was saying, or trying to say, to Enjolras before he zoned out. “You’re not listening to me.”

“Mm,” Enjolras nodded in acknowledgement, failing to see Combeferre rolling his eyes at him. “Sorry, what was it?” 

“I was just saying how we should fund the bourgeois and vote republican in the next midterm election and give the 1% another billion dollar tax break.” Combeferre joked but said with utter seriousness.

“Mhmm,” Enjolras nodded, Courfeyrac had just chimed into Grantaire’s conversation. Something about ‘tell them to suck your dick and the rest is confetti’ which only made sense to Courf and Courf alone.

“Enj!” Combeferre snapped, pulling Enjolras’ attention back to him.

“What?” 

“You’re either intensely lip reading or fawning over R, at this point it could really be either one.” Combeferre crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, catching the agust look on Enjolras’ face.

“I’m _trying_ to know what he and Jehan are talking about thank you very much.” He huffed, turning back to face the people in question. He had clearly missed a good chunk of the topic as Éponine was going on about ‘Nuns’.

“Why don’t you just ask?” Enj hated how he always pointed out the obvious like it was the _obviously_ right thing to do. Nothing was that simple.

“I'll ask Courf later,” Enjolras’ eyes followed Grantaire as he looked around, stood up, and walked over to the bar by himself. “Or I’ll ask him now.”

“Go get ‘em tiger,” Combeferre said, patting Enjolras’ back as he stood to follow. 

The bar they were at was small but lively. Neon blue LED lights lined the bar underneath and glowing purple and red lights hung from the ceiling. Grantaire stood in the purple lights pool, leaning on the bar like it was the only thing that could keep him upright. How symbolic.

“You doin’ okay?” Enjolras asked as he smiled to Grantaire when he turned to see who stepped besides him. 

He scoffed and brushed whatever was clearly bothering him away, “yea, I’m alright.” 

“You sure?” Enjolras raised an eyebrow at the lie and nudged him with his elbow. 

Grantaire hung and shook his head, smiling like he couldn’t believe himself. “Well, it just-my parents. They want me to visit them for Christmas.”

“That’s not too bad-” 

“Not when you haven’t seen them in seven years.” Grantaire’s body tightened defensively and Enjolras picked up the sensitive cue. This wasn’t the place for Grantaire to unfold his life story, not when alcohol was available at the slight of a conversation.

“What I was asking Jehan is if they minded coming with me when I did.” Grantaire’s eyes met Enjolras’, that was the first time that happened all night. “They have stuff going on though, as I’m sure anyone would-” 

“When is it?” Enjolras interrupted, not that he meant to in a rude way.

“Three weeks, the week before Christmas day. But I’m leaving the week before since they live in LA.” The bartender slid Grantaire his drink, Grantaire thanking them before turning back to Enjolras, tapping his fingers against the cold glass decorated with tiny droplets on the outside. 

Enjolras fished out his phone and checked his calendar, nothing scheduled for that week by mere coincidence. He smiled, “I have nothing going on. Why don’t I go with you?”

Enjolras thought he might’ve pressed Grantaire’s ‘Off’ button as he froze, nothing remotely going on past his eyes. He started to stumble and fumble over his words like he was restarting and would be online in a matter of seconds, Enjolras felt a ping of endearment shoot through him.

“That’s a great offer but I don’t think you’d last, not just with me, but with them. 22 year old Enjolras would rise from his ashes and talk the head off my parents for how self-righteous and _conservative_ they are.” Grantaire laughed and took a sip of his drink, turning to look somewhere other than Enjolras’ gaze. 

“What makes you think 22 year old Enjolras is gone?”

Grantaire shrugged, “you’ve mellowed out. I mean you still dazzle crowds at rallies and marches but you’re not as preachy.” He stared at his drink and swirled it around in the glass. “Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t dare take the bedazzled megaphone away from you. But you’ve become less ‘we need to change the world’ and more ‘we _are_ changing the world’.”

Enjolras genuinely grinned and felt oddly sentimental. “Gee, what am I paying Courf for when I have you?”

Grantaire smiled from the corner of his mouth, “I’m sure he’s way better at advertising than I could ever be.”

 

* * *

 

Grantaire opened the door to Éponine, a set of keys dangling in front of her. She had promised a beat up van to Grantaire for his trip, his original intent to drive as far as he could, for as long as he could and if he couldn’t get a hotel room, to just sleep in the back. He followed her out to the parking lot outside his apartment, the van coming into sight. It was now an off-white with paint chipping from everything that opened, the thing looking like something out of a junkyard.

“Who did you get this from again?” He asked.

“A guy who owes me a favor, but he doesn’t want it back. So when you inevitably take a plane back to New York, because driving is stupid, set this bad bitch on fire in the middle of the Nevada desert…..like Breaking Bad.” She said, handing him the keys.

“I don’t think they actually set the van on fire—”

“Whatever,” She said. “Also, I hear from sources that you’re going with Enjolras. When did that happen and how are you that stupid?” 

“It happened a couple days ago and I’m not stupid. It could be a bonding experience.” Grantaire said, trying to act positively. 

“Sure, and what about the, I don’t know, massive crush you have on him? Did you really think this through or do you still do everything he asks you to do?” Éponine said. It sounded harsh but it came with good intentions and she was always right, to some degree. She knew the most out of everyone else what was really drawing Grantaire back home, and she didn’t like that he was going in the first place, hence the apprehension.  

“I’m not bending over backwards for him.” Grantaire stated, although he wasn’t what they were talking about, not really.

Éponine looked at him up and down sighing and hugging him as hard as she could. “Please stay safe you idiot.”

“I will,” He offered, squeezing her tight.

She let go and reached her hand out, “can I at least have the card?”

Grantaire never knew how she did that, she always knew exactly what he had on him at all times. But he guessed it was a skill she had to develop, which always left a sour taste in his mouth. He reached into his jacket and forked over the postcard he had received from his parents. In his mother's cursive penmanship, she had wrote about how much she loved him and missed him and wished him home for the holidays, the cover picture being a family gathered around a christmas tree as a form of guilt tripping. Éponine read it, flipped it over and let her eyes catalogue every detail of the card as she was sure Grantaire had already done since the moment he got it.

Flipping it back over, she ripped it directly down the middle, putting the two pieces together and ripping those in half. Grantaire tried to stop her, reaching for the postcard that was now in a million tiny pieces. The only thing she handed back was the intact address of where he was going.

“You don’t need anything else. Go and come back,” she said putting the small piece of card stock into his hand. 

She was right. If he kept his mother’s saccharine message with the picture of a whole family on the front, who knows what he would’ve thought on his drive over. He’d probably fall into the mental spiral she wanted him to fall into and Enjolras wouldn't know any better than to encourage a happy family. Grantaire half wished Éponine would come with him to keep his mind level but she didn’t like long road trips and had her own family to take care of.

She hugged him again and they departed, him seeing her off passed the corner before climbing back up to his apartment, closing the wooden door behind him.

 

* * *

 

A week couldn’t have gone by faster for Grantaire, himself holding onto every last second he had in New York, even if that mean standing in front of an empty canvas for just a tad longer than normal. The quicker he finished his series, the quicker it would be towards christmas, the quicker he was destined to return home. His apartment was quieter than normal. The television he played for background noise as he worked was now tuned into cheesy holiday movies and the radio seemed the same way, all the advertisements being christmas themed as well. The annoying message of “loving your family” bombarding him more than usual.

God, he hadn’t had this problem in seven years, why is it so prevalent now? It’s not like he’d blacked out the entire months of November and December for _seven years._  Well, maybe he did the first year. Hard liquor had become his best friend back then. 

Enjolras arrived at Grantaire’s apartment complex with bags in hand and a scarf made by Jehan wrapped around his neck. He looked happy, almost delighted that he got to venture out with Grantaire, which didn’t make sense to the ladder considering he was him and he was going to be with him for a grand total of two weeks. Him and the ugly side of himself which were arguably the same person.

Grantaire grabbed the set of keys from the counter and Enjolras furrowed his brows. “Wait, we’re driving there?”

“Yea,” Grantaire turned. “Did I not tell you?”

“You failed to mention that.” Enjolras leaned onto his left leg, Grantaire expecting him to back out now and say he wouldn’t go. Leave Grantaire to defend himself against his own. “Oh well, let’s go.”

Grantaire hesitated, unprepared for that response, and lifted his own bags, leading Enjolras to a van parked close by. Again, another surprise for Enjolras. Grantaire felt he had purposely left out details to derail Enjolras from coming and was now suffering the consequences.

“You drive a van?” Enjolras asked, looking at Grantaire with piercing eyes.

“Nah, Ponine knew a guy who had one and let me borrow it.” Grantaire shoved some stuff around the back and reached out for Enjolras’ bags. 

Enjolras peered inside, handing Grantaire one of his bags, “we aren’t sleeping inside are we? I know we’re still young but we aren’t college kids anymore-”

Grantaire wrinkled his face and almost laughed, “hell no! Holiday Inn’s and Best Western’s exist.” He put Enjolras’ bag in and then the next, shutting the door and walking around to the driver’s seat.

“More like Four Seasons and Sheraton’s,” Enjolras scoffed as buckled his seatbelt on. 

“You’re expensive,” Grantaire joked.

The small piece of paper Éponine hand ripped for him sat on the glass that protected the gauges behind the wheel. He put the van in reverse and backed out, driving out of his apartment complex and heading for I-80 W. He fiddled with the radio with one hand, trying to find a good radio station to fill the silence. After not being able to find anything, he realized the van was just new enough to have the luxury of an aux cord. Plugging it in, he gave the other end to Enjolras, the new van DJ.

“Go wild,” he joked, flashing a smirk at Enjolras, who just nodded his head.

Grantaire and Enjolras were musical soulmates, of this Grantaire was sure. Grantaire had a massive punk phase, going to $15 and below, garage band concerts and throwing himself, drunk and reckless, into pits to just escape his life for a little. His definition of a good concert was tested by how many bruises he got and how loud his ears rang the next morning. His best flannels and now fashionable ripped jeans fell victim of mosh pits and broken beer bottles. Packing people like sardines into a venue smaller than most houses he grew up around, music at full volume, and everyone reaching the same level of ecstasy, whether drugs were involved or not. Which they usually were.

Conversely, Enjolras grew up never going to a concert until he met Courfeyrac and Combeferre, and coincidentally Grantaire. He listened to underground punk bands and blasted their music through his headphones, eventually Green Day becoming his everything and anything. It was at an AJR concert in 2013 where Enjolras first experienced live punk music, with the help of his two fellow musketeers sneaking him out of the house he lived in. That same night, he met Grantaire, a friend of Courf’s. All of them in their early 20’s, dancing to a conglomeration of punk and electronic music. Enjolras wouldn’t have prefered to meeted Grantaire any other way.

When Grantaire got onto the highway, Enjolras spoke, “if you need me to drive, I can take over anytime.” 

Grantaire tapped his fingers on the wheel to the music, Homecoming by Green Day, he expected nothing less. He nodded his head and glanced to the side, offering a kind but knowing smile. He’d seen Enjolras drive, hell he’d been in the same car as Enjolras when he drove. No way in hell. Plus he was the better navigator out of the two. If Grantaire granted himself the luxury of sleeping, Enjolras would be well on his way to Toronto when he awoke.

 

* * *

 

At 9:30, the pair were just outside Columbus, Ohio, when Grantaire noticed Enjolras nodding off in the passenger's seat. The street lights passed over the golden hair that bounced every few minutes from the road or Enjolras trying to keep himself awake. He spotted a Holiday Inn up ahead and decided now was a good time to pull over. If they got up early enough, they’d probably score free breakfast and be back on the road by nine the next day.

He whipped into the parking lot, leaving the car on and locking the doors as to not disturb Enjolras, who at this point was well into the dream world or whatever theoretical land he heard Jehan philosophizing about that one meeting when they both came in high out of their goddamn minds. Grantaire approached the counter and grabbed the attention of the front desk girl from the back, getting a room for the night.

“How many beds?” She asked, looking up at Grantaire from the computer below the counter.

“Uh,” Grantaire laughed to himself internally. “Two, thanks.”

He slid his card across the counter, grabbed the room key when he got it back, and went back out to the car. Unlocking it, he opened the back and grabbed his bags, slinging one over his shoulder, walking around to Enjolras’ side to wake him.

“Enjolras?” He asked quietly, tapping the other on the shoulder.

Enjolras woke up gradually, slightly groaning at the awakening. “Yes?”

“I pulled over, I got us a hotel room. Come get your stuff,” Grantaire said gently, leaving to go around back and letting Enjolras mentally collect himself.

They gathered their stuff and entered the building, Enjolras lazily following Grantaire who, to his surprise, was still alert and alive as ever. He knew Grantaire was more of a night owl, always had been, but he didn’t know how he wasn’t on the edge of sleep like Enjolras was, especially after driving the whole way so far. They entered the elevator, Grantaire pushing the three button, making it glow amongst the rest. No one else was up and around in the hotel, Enjolras noticed, other than the employee Grantaire had to obviously talk to, to get the room, he hopefully assumed. The doors opened and they stepped out, Grantaire taking a left and Enjolras following. 

The carpet seemed to stretch forever in its orange, 80’s-esque glory. Grantaire finally stopped and swiped the key through the door, quickly pressing down on the fake golden handle and pushing the door open. When he turned the lights on, it seemed nice from how much Enjolras saw inside. Grantaire entered first and made an approving sound before groaning.

“What is it?” Enjolras mumbled, dragging his bag on the 80’s carpet, not bothering to pick it up any longer.

“I told them two-”

Enjolras saw the problem. The walls were a mustard yellow with an awkward green couch perched in front of the giant window with white drapes covering the night life outside. The carpet was different, it was tan and was much calmer than the loud 80’s one just outside the door. There was a brown drawer set with a tv perched on top, matching the mahogany finished cabinets, mirror frames, and bed frame.And there was the problem, the singular bed frame. They gave them a room with one bed.

It was big though, somewhere between a Queen and a King, Enjolras couldn’t tell from it’s highly fluffy comforter that was the same awkward green as the couch. Courf wouldn’t approve, Enjolras would put money on it. 

To be honest, Enjolras didn’t see a problem with it too much. He’d shared beds before, with Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Cosette, on the occasional family vacation. This he saw as no different, even if some small emotions lit sparklers in his mind.

He sighed and pushed past Grantaire, setting his stuff on the bed and toeing his shoes off.

“I don’t really care-”

“You’re not sleeping on the couch!”

Enjolras paused, narrowing his eyes on Grantaire. “What-? No, I meant that we’d have to share a bed, dummy. There’s, like, no one here, no need in going to complain. I promise I can keep myself on one side.” 

Enjolras looked back down at his bag and started to search around for the pajamas he brought. Grantaire felt his face heat, “well if you’re okay with it. I must warn you, I like to cuddle.”

Enjolras laughed, “yea, so does Courf. He latches on like a baby bear in the middle of winter…—don’t tell him I said that.” Enjolras turned and pointed at Grantaire in joking seriousness.

“What happens in Ohio, stays in Ohio,” Grantaire watched Enjolras face soften as he went back to search for his clothes, Grantaire setting down his bag and doing the same.

Enjolras changed in the bathroom while Grantaire changed in the room, each taking turns brushing teeth and doing ‘nightly routines’ as Grantaire called it as he suds his face with a fancy tube of face cleaner that smelled like mint and winter.

Enjolras crawled in before Grantaire, holding his phone inches away from his face as his glasses lay on the night stand on the opposite side of the bed. Grantaire was confused as to why he chose that side but shrugged and slid in next to him, leaving a considerable gap between them. He plugged in his phone but it wouldn’t read as it being charged. He tried the other outlet below it, but the same thing happened.

“The outlet doesn’t work,” Grantaire said.

“Mhhmm,” Enjolras mumbled. 

Ah, of course. “Could you plug my phone in?” Grantaire asked, turning over to Enjolras, who nodded and grabbed Grantaire’s charger and phone from him.

As Enjolras turned, Grantaire couldn’t help but watch the way his shoulder blade moved under his shirt, his back arching to reach the outlet below. He shifted back to his side of the bed and faced away from Enjolras, who had settled back into his side and scrolled mindlessly on Twitter.

“What time we leaving in the morning?” He asked.

Grantaire paused in thought, “probably around 9:30. They have breakfast early, then after we’d hit the road.”

Enjolras nodded even if he knew Grantaire couldn’t see him. He set an alarm on his phone, he set two actually. Grantaire was a heavy sleeper, he knew that from their college days of having to knock profusely on Grantaire’s door before eventually going in to poke him awake. His three other roommates always happened to be out of the apartment when it was time for their meetings and even if Grantaire boiled him to the core, he’d wake him up so he didn’t miss them.

Grantaire reached up and pulled the lamps cord, shutting off the only light, the room falling to darkness. He heard, and felt the bed dip, as Enjolras shuffled around a bit, eventually settling in a spot. Just as Grantaire shut his eyes, he felt the pull of sleep. He needed all he could get, not only to fuel himself for the trip, but to mentally relax himself for the fall.

Suddenly, a blaring noise filled his ears and he was jumping out of bed, pulling on some shoes and waking Enjolras hurriedly out of bed. The fire alarm in their room was going off, the screeching clawing away at the back of his mind as he tried to drowned out the noise with his thoughts. He shook Enjolras, almost pushing him off the bed. Fuck, if he needed to carry him out, he probably would’ve.

“What the hell…?” Enjolras mumbled still in a sleep like state. 

“There’s a fire we have to go,” Grantaire said, trying to put as little emotion as he could into the way he spoke like he was trained to do so. He didn’t want Enjolras to get overly anxious too quickly, is what he told himself. 

Enjolras put some shoes on and grabbed their phones, Grantaire stuffing both their wallets into his flannel pajama bottom pockets, the two quickly marching out of the door. Grantaire grabbed for Enjolras as a small crowd of people unknown to the two had gathered near the bright, glowing red ‘EXIT’ sign at the end of the hallway. He pulled them forward and soon, they were descending the steps, everything going very fast in Enjolras’ mind. Once in college, he failed to let himself sleep practically at all because he was so fixated on becoming the best lawyer he could, so now, years later, he’s not fully cognitive when his sleep is interrupted, even in an instance like this which was arguably dangerous. Arguable because he was basically being pulled like a lost puppy by Grantaire, who was so hyper aware that it scared Enjolras a little. His steps were bouncy and his thoughts vanished as quickly as they came. Perhaps he was still in the dream-realm, or whatever Jehan mentioned that one time they felt like being a prolific philosopher during a meeting. It made Enjolras smile remembering that, knowing they were probably stoned out of their mind when they said it.

When they got to the ground floor, guests were being funneled outside by the hotel staff, or Enjolras thought they were the staff because they were the only ones in uniforms and looking slightly put together for it being late at night. The air outside was cold, Enjolras should’ve brought a blanket. But where would he have gotten one in the first place? He was clearly asking the right questions for an evacuation. In the time from the lobby they so briefly went through, to now that they were outdoors, Grantaire had let go of Enjolras and something in Enjolras missed the contact. The clingy reassurance that, although Enjolras was bouncing in this dream state, he was grounded.

Grantaire stood next to Enjolras, looking around the pajamas clad hotel guests, lost but wondering like the two of them. In search for that grounded feeling again, Enjolras slowly leaned his head on Grantaire, pressed the side of his face into Grantaire’s shoulder, his chest and arms really wanting to wrap around Grantaire’s left arm like wild ivy taking over. Grantaire didn’t have any physical reaction, and certainly didn’t brush Enjolras off, which was a good sign.

Enjolras smiled and put his forehead on the intersection of Grantaire’s shoulder and neck, “I’m picking the hotel next time.”

Grantaire huffed and didn’t bother fighting back a grin for the sake of Enjolras’ satisfaction. He nodded his head but didn’t offer a confirmed ‘yes’, so Enjolras was going to have to test that at their next overnight stop. He was already picturing the plush, white bed he’d be snuggling into in a Sheraton right outside of Kansas City. Warmth surrounding him from everywhere, the golden light of the hotel room’s lights, Grantaire’s arm sneaking around his waist under the fluffy comforter—

“I’m gonna go see what’s going on,” Grantaire said to Enjolras. Before Enjolras could mutter a rebuttal, he was gone and zig-zagging through the now splotchy crowd that had briefly dispersed around the front of the hotel. He watched Grantaire approach a group of men, who had been slightly rowdy and rude, cracking jokes the entire time, and say something that got a rise from a couple of them. His head nodded to the hotel, one of the more talkative members of the group being the first to pipe up and answer his question.

Eventually, Grantaire wandered back and let Enjolras resume his closeness, even if it wasn’t as intimate as before. 

“What’s up?”

Grantaire hung his head and signed, “some people are suspecting it’s just a drill. There’s no actual fire.”

Enjolras hummed and let his right arm hook around Grantaire’s left, “I wish there was a lawyer here that cared enough to fight with the owners and press charges for waking him up in the middle of the fucking night for a drill.”

“Ha, yea. If only,” Grantaire turned to look at Enjolras, who was smiling like an idiot. “It’s a shame justice must wait.”

“Hey,” Enjolras poked him in the arm, “don’t test me.”

The fire department had been dispatched and had arrived, the big fire engines whistling and blaring with lights of all kinds. Grantaire oddly felt like he was at a crime scene and they had come to collect a body of some kind, like in the tv shows. Enjolras holding onto him didn’t make that scenario any better because it sparked a protective feeling in him that he only ever got around people like Joly or Gavroche. Which was odd. Enjolras was more like Montparnasse, vastly independent and fierce, equipt with the ability to kill people with a glint in their eyes. But to feel like he was defending a small puppy who was too good for this world was completely outlandish, not to be overdramatic.

When the fire department gave the okay, and the guests were able to return back to their rooms, Grantaire kept a close distance to Enjolras, even if the sleepiness had majority wore off by now. Neither of them had been more thankful for a warm hotel room and semi-fluffy bedding then now, having stood outside in the brisk, almost 2am, Ohio night.

 

* * *

 

Breakfast on Tuesday morning was only as good as cheap hotel’s could be and they were back on the road by 9:30 that morning, just as Grantaire predicted. He was pretty good traveling. He crowned Enjolras car DJ yet again and they were both jamming to Sum 41, his fingers tapping on the wheel as he merged onto I-70 W.

“You seem happy this morning, considering the night we had,” Enjolras said as he caught Grantaire car-dancing to Bulletproof Heart by My Chemical Romance.

“Eh,” Grantaire shrugged. “It adds personality to the trip. I’m excited because we’re making a small stop on our way to Kansas City.”

That caught Enjolras’ full attention, “where to?”

“St. Louis. I found something there you’ll really like.”

Something he’d really like? That could be many things, making Enjolras was half tempted to launch himself into a guessing game as to what it was while Grantaire shook his head, refusing to give it up. But he put trust into Grantaire, he always knew where the best things could be found. He was also scary good and getting people gifts at christmas time, everyone scrambling to be the one Grantaire pulled out of the Santa Hat during their annual round of Secret Santa. He got Combeferre one year and managed to find him an entire, three volume set of _Remembrance Of Things Past_ by Marcel Proust, a French novelist who was dedicated to writing the longest book in existence, standing at four thousand something pages. Combeferre lit up like a christmas tree that year, maybe started crying a little bit. He was always thoughtful like that, wanting people to know how much he appreciated them, even if he acted like an asshole most of the time.

By the time they hit St. Louis, Enjolras kept his eye out for anything he deemed worthy enough, from Grantaire’s eyes, to be a surprise for him. Grantaire turned down a street and slowed down at a public parking lot, Enjolras turning to give him a confused look.

“You have a problem in taking the scenic route?”

“Not at all,” Enjolras said as he looked out his window, Grantaire whipping into a spot and parking the van.

Grantaire got out and went ahead to get the parking ticket from the machine at the front of the space. Enjolras unbuckled his seatbelt and got out, locking the van’s two side doors and back doors. Grantaire tucked the ticket in the front window and the two of them proceeded down the sidewalk.

Enjolras couldn’t help but notice the way Grantaire walked, it was like he already knew the city he was in. Like he had already lived in and gotten comfortable with the cacophony of St. Louis. And maybe he had. From what Enjolras could remember, Grantaire was never one to talk about his past or his family in great length. The most he ever heard about Grantaire’s past was from Éponine and even then, it was from his time in New York.

From where they were walking, Enjolras could see the infamous upside down ‘U’ that most tourist stopping in St. Louis would frequent, but Enjolras didn’t take Grantaire for your everyday tourist. He had a such a knack for finding underground places that were actually good, it made you wonder why they weren’t more popular. So he didn’t think that was where they were going, but they persisted in the direction nonetheless.

“What do lawyers like?” Grantaire asked Enjolras who walked besides him, just a step behind. 

Enjolras furrowed his brows, that was a highly complex and semi-irrelevant question. He didn’t see how his profession fully encompassed his personality, but maybe it was a conversation topic?

Upon further silence in his thought process, a round blue-green dome came into view with all the design and makings of an old court house. Some people stood on the outside, many coming out and making their way for the giant ‘U’ in the sky.

“You’re taking me to a courthouse?” Enjolras asked, his voice monotone but surprised. 

“Not just any courthouse, _the_ courthouse!” Grantaire said with a smile, turning to look at Enjolras with all the excitement of a kid on christmas day.

However excited he was, Enjolras still didn’t get it. They ascended the steps and walked inside, architectural circumferences made out of traditional columns blew him away. Structurally, it was something to marvel at. The stoning on the floor was grey and uneven, giving it antique authenticity that made the old man in Enjolras quite satisfied. Artwork was hung on the round walls of scenic designs, benches near them for people looking to stay a while. A man stood behind a desk talking actively to a woman and her kids, who looked delighted to be there. The two of them walked behind the woman and her kids until the man was available to talk to, his uniform similar to that of an older boy scout. Other people were spread sporadically throughout the front, looking upon the artwork.

“We’re here for the closest tour,” Grantaire said to the man.

“Great, we were just about to start!” He said cheerily, but not with the saccharine that leaves a bad taste in the mouth.

Another boy scout looking man appeared and led the group of people, Grantaire and Enjolras included, throughout the courthouse. It was then when Enjolras got why Grantaire was so excited. Enjolras, much like Grantaire, was a history buff but he preferred American History whereas Grantaire preferred Classical studies. As explained by the tour guide, the courthouse they strolled through was one that housed a pivotal moment in tipping the push for the American Civil War, the famous Dred Scott Case in 1846. The guide also talked in great length about the westward expansions and Native American struggles in St. Louis during those times.

Enjolras listened as intently as he could, but Grantaire just kept standing there. Standing in the sunlight, letting it filter through the courthouses old windows and glimmer on his chocolate brown hair and short stubble. The way it made his dark blue eyes sparkle like the sky dipping into the evening. There were great exhibits showing the French settlement of St. Louis, Indian affairs, the Lewis and Clark expedition, mountain-men, and fur traders, but Enjolras only could focus on half of it. He tried to soak as much up as he could but everytime Grantaire looked back to see is Enjolras was enjoying himself, he got lost in his dazzling smile.

He really wanted to tell himself that perhaps this was a bad decision, he was quite familiar with those even if they weren’t as frequent as they used to be. He wanted to tell himself he should’ve stayed home. He wanted to tell himself that he should’ve gotten involved in Grantaire’s obviously messy past and family life. He wanted to tell himself that in every catching glance he got of Grantaire, but he couldn’t. Enjolras loved that he got to push past Grantaire’s first round of highly built up walls. He loved that he got to enjoy him, outside of their weekly meet up since he hardly ever ran into him during the rest of the week, him being an actively practicing lawyer in his firm and Taire being a phenomenal artist in the New York scene.

Enjolras knew he was fucked. 

When the tour ended and the two had walked around as much as they wanted, Grantaire pulled Enjolras along to a small coffee shop he knew of to get a pick me up for the road. It was an 11 minute walk and Enjolras wanted to be more active on his feet before hoping in a car for another long period of time.

Heading south on 10th street, they took a left on Chestnut street and they both spotted the cute sign hanging above the small, white umbrellas that spotted the sidewalk outside the shop, silver tables with white wicker chairs to match. Ordering their drinks and snacks, they decided to sit outside, the weather being better than it was in Ohio.

“Did you enjoy the courthouse?” Grantaire asked as he took a sip from a long white straw of his raspberry tea.

“Uh, yes!” Enjolras said a little too quickly, his eyes flickering from Grantaire’s lips to his eyes before the other could notice. “I found it really entertaining.”

“Cool, I hoped you would. I thought it’d be better than taking you to the giant ‘U’ in the sky, I always find stuff like that pointless,” Grantaire rested his head on his hand.

“You thought right,” Enjolras grinned and looked down at his coffee, swirling the spoon in his hand around in the mug.

“Enj?” Grantaire asked, drawing Enjolras’ attention back to him. Enjolras hummed, “why did you come with me?”

Enjolras’ gaze dropped back to his coffee, his hand repeating the same swirling motion. He shrugged, “I don't know, it seemed really important to you that someone come with you. I saw you talking to Éponine and Jehan about it before I approached you andㅡI get it, parents aren’t always the best. You don’t have to open up to me or anything, but I’m sure if you haven’t seen them in _seven years_ it’s for good cause. I know how hard family can be sometimes.”

Grantaire smiled, he appreciated the sentiment. Enjolras was right, he hadn’t had the most perfect experience with his family. When Enjolras’ father learned he was gay, he almost cut him off but it didn’t matter to Enj too much, he was already graduated and starting his firm with the ball rolling pretty fast. His father was quick to change how he thought and the relationship had become a patchwork quilt, with the help of Enjolras’ mother and Cosette. It didn’t come close to anything Grantaire had experienced but he didn’t like comparing people’s problems with his own since it was all circumstance and case-by-case stuff. 

He caught and held Enjolras’ gaze for what felt like forever till he could muster out a small thank you.

They left and the first song Enjolras’ chose to play was Carry On by FUN, which he claimed was their friend groups anthem. Grantaire had mixed feelings on that but didn’t refute the case and instead just smiled and shook his head.

The drive on I-70 W itself was a grand total of 3 ½ hours, so Enjolras had some time to google what hotel they’d stay in for the night. After some extensive searching, picking the third one he saw, he pulled up the directions to the place.

“I have directions to the hotel I’ve chosen,” Enjolras said replacing Grantaire’s phone hanging on the window via suction cup and holder with his.

“What hotel is it?” Grantaire asked, looking over at Enjolras with a suspicious look.

“I’ll tell you when we get there. Why do you need to know now?”

“I need to know because I’m the one driving,” Grantaire used his right hand to zoom in on Enjolras’ phone map. The name of the hotel wasn’t displayed, just the street names and the names of the roads to get there. “Don’t tell me it’s one of those stupid overpriced ones that have the expensive boutiques inside and tiny portions of food.”

“It’s whatever I chose, you don’t have to worry about costs, I got this one.” Enjolras said, leaning back and looping his arm up and across the back of Grantaire’s seat. He didn’t want to get too comfortable and fall asleep to fall victim to another Holiday Inn Incident.

Needless to say, when they arrived at Enjolras’ desired location, Grantaire had to suppress the passive aggression because it was everything he said and more. Enjolras chose the Raphael Hotel, a fancy hotel right outside of Kansas City. They pulled into the back of the parking lot at twenty till eleven, unloaded their things and proceeded inside. Enjolras made Grantaire wait outside the checking room with their bags and when he came walking out with two room keys, they made their way to the elevator. Enjolras handed Grantaire his room key and felt something in his stomach when Grantaire took it from his hand. What did he expect him to do? Not take the key?

Their rooms were on one of the middle floors, the elevator stopping periodically to let people in and out. Walking out of the elevator, the carpet wasn’t an ugly 80’s pattern but instead was black squares on a muted tan background. The rooms were right next to each other, Grantaire setting down his bags so he could give Enjolras his own bags.

“Thanks E,” Grantaire said before sliding his card in and opening the door. When his door shut, Enjolras waited and figured he should go inside of his. The carpet was a light tan, the walls a similar color. Most, if not all the furniture was white, and the lamps offered a warm yellow light that made the room feel cozier. The bed was large and looked like a cloud manifested in the room, the comforter fluffier than any he’d been in ever before.

Enjolras decided he needed a shower, having gone a couple days without taking one. He walked into the bathroom barefoot, the cold marble flooring making him shiver. He opened the glass door to the shower and turned it on, intending on scorching himself with hot water to melt away the cold. He stripped and stepped inside, the hot water making his skin tingle with delight, his pours just thriving in steam that bounced off his body from the water.

When he decided to step out, he dressed in his pajamas bottoms, brushed his teeth, and took his contacts out, slipping out of the bathroom and into the soft, plush covers of the bed. Everything felt right, but like he was missing something. Something important. He knew what it was but there was no point in dwelling over the fact that when the checking lady asked if he wanted two rooms and he had said yes, his heart dropped. He didn’t want to dwell on it. Yeah. He was sure that one room over, Grantaire was already well into his adventure in the dream realm and hadn’t thought twice about Enjolras, surely. Enjolras needed to be there for Grantaire, especially as the days got closer and closer to them meeting his family, he couldn’t make this about him.

 

* * *

 

Enjolras woke up to no alarm and no dip in the mattress, the pros and cons about his current fluffy state. Ripping himself away from the bed was a nightmare and he wanted nothing more than to roll over and sleep for the next five hours, but he made a promise to a person he cares about. Which made him pull himself from bed and into a change of clothes to meet Grantaire in the hallway. They decided to eat breakfast at one of the hotels many restaurants, the buffet being what they both truly wanted.

Enjolras still enjoyed black coffee but couldn’t drink more than a cup, a considerable amount less than what he used to chug on his way to class when he was younger. He had eggs with a waffle and mixed berries because he was missing the healthier side of his usual diet. Grantaire went directly for the omelettes and bacon, sipping graciously at a cup of orange juice. He dined like a hungover child but Enjolras tried not to judge too harshly over food.

After breakfast, they went back up to their rooms, collected their bags and hit the road a little later than usual, around 10:15. Their next stop was Denver, Colorado which was a smooth eight hours of god knows what. The farthest Enjolras had bothered driving was Philly or Jersey, this entire trip might as well of been foreign territory. Who really knew was in America’s Midwest? Not Enjolras. As soon as they’d hit the two hours mark on their favorite interstate of I-70 W, Enjolras was out like a light, only waking up when Grantaire made the obligatory gas station stop for gas, bathroom, or lunch. Aliens could’ve abducted Grantaire and switched him out with a fake one and Enjolras would not have known because majority of the way from Kansas City to Denver he was fluttering in and out of sleep. He was still car DJ, but had compiled a playlist of songs Grantaire would for sure like so he didn’t feel bad for playing Sober Up by AJR twenty times in a row, even if Grantaire could listen to it for ‘hours on end’ he claimed.

They were three hours from Denver when he woke up for the final time, trying to keep himself awake for the duration of the time so he could sleep peacefully during and not stare at the ceiling all night. He also wanted at least a small day in where they stayed. The sky was close to black at this point, the lights of the city poking through the darkness like glowing stars. The headlights from the van made everything a little softer here, everything became a bit fuzzy. An overwhelming calmness.

The intro to _Bad Religion_ by Frank Ocean started playing, which immediately caught Grantaire’s attention.

“Dude, this is some depression playlist shit. You okay Enj?”

“What?” Enjolras’ brain took a second longer to realize what he meant and quickly jumped on his phone to change the song. “Yea, sorry. I don’t know how that made its way on. Sorry,” He apologized.

Grantaire huffed out a laugh, “it’s okay. I like that song normally, but doesn’t quite fit the mood.” 

Enjolras hummed in agreement and started scrolling through his extensive Apple Music Library.

Grantaire tried not to read too much into the song that came on, it was just Enjolras trying to find a song to fill the space. Nothing more, right? The steady rhythm of claps and string instruments came through the speakers, Hozier’s voice singing smoothly in the air. _Movement._

He tried to act as calmly as he could, Enjolras subtly putting the phone back down and acting as if he didn’t trip Grantaire brain’s security system. Sirens wailed in his mind like _what the hell does this mean?_  

Maybe it was to better fit the mood, as Grantaire had suggested the song do. It was late at night, the two of them stuck in a weird cycle of intimacy over the past three days, Hozier’s song matching that mood and bringing a more religious experience with it that only Hozier songs can possess. But it made Grantaire want to act physically more than anything. A hazy turquoise light basking over the both of him, him grabbing Enjolras’ jaw, his fingers dancing on the back of his neck ass he brought him forward, their bodies clashing to the chorus’s beat. The without-hesitation syncing of their lips against one another, Enjolras running his fingers through Grantaire’s hair. The need to have skin touching skin, the—

And that’s where Grantaire decided to speak up and take his mind off of whatever shit it was on. 

“It’s late, you wanna pull over and stop sometime soon?”

Enjolras nodded, Grantaire mapping out how long they had till Denver and planning where to stay accordingly. He checked the gas gauge, they’d need to stop for gas soon but it could wait till the morning.

Getting off the interstate and driving into Denver’s downtown, Enjolras spotted a Crown Plaza Hotel in front of a row of trees on Glenarm Place. Grantaire half-heartedly agreed, a little _too_ tired to argue and search for a better option.

The same procedure as the Raphael had ensued, Grantaire loving that he had his own room but missing the comfort of having another person there, of having Enjolras there. The the Raphael he had a very good night sleep but he missed the warm body radiating against him like in the Holiday Inn. He assumed he’d miss it again tonight, as he sat in the lobby, bags miscellaneously surrounding him.

“I have bad news,” Enjolras said as he walked away from the counter. “They only have one room in our _desired price range_ —“ a conversation essential to Grantaire as soon as they left the Raphael, “—but it’ll be another Holiday Inn situation.” 

Grantaire hopes his face didn’t match his inner cheerleader that was doing somersaults and cartwheels in his mind. However, he couldn’t stop the smile and sarcastic comment.

“That’s fine, just don’t steal my covers.” He half wanted to reach out and play punch Enjolras but he thought that might be a bit too much.

“You’re okay with it?” Enjolras asked, just to double check and make sure he wasn’t reading Grantaire’s reaction wrong.

“Yeah I’m okay with it,” Grantaire definitely suppressed a ‘it’s not gay if you say no homo’ joke. He was getting too comfortable with Enjolras to be making these comments, he needed a miniature Bahorel he could carry around so someone could appreciate his humor.

Enjolras smiled and nodded, “okay,” and turned back towards the desk.

A warmth in that spread in Grantaire’s chest like a calm fire. Enjolras clearly didn’t mind sharing a bed with him, and he didn’t mind at all. In fact, he had been secretly wanting it anyway. At this rate, he was due to confess his feelings by time they hit Vegas. Which hopefully he didn’t, for one of two reasons. Lots of people do stupid shit in Vegas, just for it to stay in Vegas, and if he talked to Enjolras about his long term crush on him, like Jehan had suggested so many times, he might just die on site.

The room had maroon walls and a large window on one side of the room, white drapes billowing  in front of it with a light grey couch. A large tv sat on a mahogany dresser facing the singular bed in the door, a matching headboard with an intricate flower design carved into it. Something in seeing this sparked a feeling in Grantaire like this was always meant to happen. Walking into the room, he felt like he’d been married for three happy years and they were taking a vacation from the hectic New York environment they both needed to get away from for a little bit. Which is to say, this is what felt normal about the trip. This is what felt right. For a moment, the impending doom Grantaire had been feeling that loomed over him every waking moment of this trip had slipped away, him watching as Enjolras turned around, giving an approving nod, and going to set his things down at the foot of the bed.

They both had gotten into bed, Enjolras smelled the familiar scent of Grantaire’s face wash, it bringing a good feeling that crawled down Enjolras’ throat into his lungs. He smiled as he looked over, Grantaire’s brown curls splayed out against the white of the pillow cases. Something strangely domestic.

When the lights went out, Enjolras immediately went to sleep but Grantaire lay awake for awhile thinking about the possible consequences of this trip. His palms tingled with anxiety as he thought things he hadn’t thought of for a while, rubbing them over his eye sockets to get them to calm down. His stomach seemed extremely active as well, he felt bad for Enjolras if he was trying to get to sleep and Grantaire was a fidgeting mess next to him. The same thing happened in the Raphael but he thought maybe it was because he missed Enjolras and nothing more, but that clearly wasn’t the case. He closed his eyes and tried to go to sleep, the same thoughts running over him over and over again. At this rate he knew he’d never get to sleep.

He looked over at the clock and it was ten after midnight, he needed to sleep, which meant shutting off his intrusive thoughts first. He slid out of bed and walked cautiously in the dark to the bathroom, splashing his face with water and trying to thoroughly wake himself before attempting tog to back to bed. He shut the light off and went back, waiting a second for his eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness. He almost missed the bed but recovered and got back in, trying not to move too much for Enjolras’ sake. But it was too late.

Enjolras rolled over as soon as Grantaire pulled the covers over himself, and propped himself up on his elbow. 

“Are you okay, R?”

Grantaire didn’t want to answer at first, but decided candy-coating it for now would suffice for Enj. “Yeah, just couldn’t sleep is all. But it’s late, you should get back to sleep.” 

Enjolras was quiet for a while, Grantaire didn’t have the nerve to turn to look at him to see what his possible facial reactions were to what he said. Enjolras leaned back down and moved around a little before saying, “if you need to talk about it, you can.”

Grantaire breathed out a shaky breath, he knew he could and he knew that no matter what happened, Enjolras wasn’t in the business to judge him based on his past. Still, unpacking why he was so uneasy would take too long and way too much therapy for the both of them in the end. Plus, he hated making therapists out of his friends because there’s only so much damage you can unleash on a person at once, even if they were completely willing to take it and the damage was years and years old. If he put it bluntly, that would be opening up to Enjolras which was a scary feet for Grantaire, even if it wasn’t Enj, and he knew it would also lead to more and more being revealed about him. Still, the need to be heard and open up to someone was very strong.

“I know,” Grantaire eventually said. “It’s justㅡI’m just worried about my parents is all. They’ve been this looming thought in my mind and I’m seeing them in three days after so long. I don’t even know why I came in the first place…”

It was difficult for Enjolras to not poke and prod at a plethora of what Grantaire had said, so he chose his words carefully. Both of them were laying on their backs staring at the ceiling, the only light in the room being eliminated from the curtains letting the lights from the city around them filter through.

“Did you not want to come?” 

“Noㅡyes...no…” Grantaire felt his throat grow tight with strain. “They...they aren’t just people I’ve disagreed with when I was an angsty teenager and the world was always against me. They...aren’t good people.”

As much as Enjolras wanted to say he felt the walls Grantaire built up were coming down, he felt like they were getting raised a little higher with the tension that slowly built in Grantaire’s voice. It wasn’t anger or full of malicious intent, it was like a runner in a marathon sprinting and trying to catch their breath. He felt awful for that inflection in Grantaire’s voice, but more importantly about what Grantaire was hinting at.

“I’m sorry R.”

Enjolras opened his mouth to say something but Grantaire spoke before he had the chance to.

“It’s okay, it’s over with already.”

“Time doesn’t invalidate it,” Enjolras said, trying not to sound too analytical. He wanted to comfort Grantaire as much as he could because time clearly hadn’t fully healed this wound. Grantaire had a very clear scar that persisted even after seven years.

Grantaire stayed quiet and still, too perplexed on Enjolras’ words to move. “Thank you Enj. Really.”

Enjolras turned his head on the pillow to face Grantaire, reaching over and stroking his arm in comfort. He turned his body towards Grantaire and closed his eyes, letting his hand linger on Grantaire.

“Try and get some sleep. It’s a long drive to Salt Lake.” He tried to make the air around them lighter.

Grantaire smiled and rolled his eyes, “if there’s one stop I hate most on this trip, it’s Salt Lake. I never look forward to going there.”

Grantaire had never mentioned traveling around the states to anyone, at least fo Enjolras’ knowledge, but he felt like he had already pressed a lot of information out of Grantaire for one night. He was smiling and visually looking better, by the smile, so he thought he’d not ask. Grantaire closed his eyes and evened out his breathing, falling asleep to the soothing touch of Enjolras stroking his arm. The other, once Grantaire was asleep, closed his eyes and drifted off.

 

* * *

 

Thursday morning, the two lingered in places a bit more, the morning stretching to its last possible minute. The drive from Denver to Salt Lake was their second shortest drive during the duration of the trip, this one only taking around 7 ½ hours. They checked out of the Crown Plaza at 10:30, Grantaire sporting his sunglasses when getting onto I-80 W for the most scenic route they'd been on so far. Enjolras took pictures the whole time, determined to make his instagram pristine.

“Where we’re going, you can take better pictures than that,” Grantaire said as he looked over at Enjolras busily looking out of the window.

“Where are we going?” Enjolras asked.

They were driving in the middle of many national parks and forests, the mountains becoming more and more stunning as the drive continued. They looked like great, unblinking giants.

“I actually booked us a hotel, it’s one of the better ones in Salt Lake. It’s in the mountains and if we get there early enough, I’m sure we can go on an adventure and go nature seeing,” Grantaire said, being really proud of himself. 

Enjolras sat back and let himself be guided around the states. Grantaire rolled down his window and hung his elbow out of it, the wind rustling his hair just so. Enjolras totally didn’t sneak photos of him, sending them to Éponine, who just sent a stream of smiling poop emojis.

When they arrived at the hotel, it was actually a lodge, the glowing sign reading “Alta Lodge”. The sky was streaked in various shades of color as the sun was in its early stages of setting, dazzling colors of pink and orange dotting the heavens.

They checked in and set their stuff down in the room, before venturing out into the setting surrounding wilderness. The trees were lush green for the fall weather, the wind seldom bug semi-biting. Wild flowers bloomed in shades of red and pink, Grantaire leading the way, which made for very aesthetically pleasing pictures for Enjolras’ instagram.

The setting sun added a glow to Grantaire and the wildlife fauna, golden hour hitting perfectly. It managed to eloquently take Enjolras’ breath away every time Grantaire wiggles around a tree or on top of a rock and smiled down at Enjolras.

They only spent a maximum of twenty minutes outside, the sunlight dwindling quickly and their bellies growling for dinner. Enjolras treated Grantaire to dinner inside the lodge, a live folk band playing inside making the vibe more whimsical and fun.

Venturing back up to their room after dinner, a sleepy veil fell over them after the hot meal. Grantaire or Enjolras couldn't have asked for a more perfect end to a day, both of them thinking that this is how it was supposed to be, really.

The room was cozy, two giant windows on the back and side wall. A small balcony was just outside a sliding door from the side wall, two XL full beds evenly spaced out on the third wall, lamps on either side of each. The beds were a light tan with dark chocolate colored pillows for decoration, all of them made out of soft polyester. The walls were dark wood paneling, the only thing missing was snow just outside their windows and a fireplace.

Grantaire and Enjolras both got into bed, separately, but in the same room so Grantaire thought he’d be fully satisfied. But he wasn’t. He missed the body that caused a dip in the mattress next to him. More specifically and most importantly, he missed Enjolras next to him. Next to him, touching him, not even in a sexual way, just in a way that two intimate people deep in love would. The stroke of an arm, the looks exchanged. Enjolras felt the same seemingly endless, but realistically two foot, void between the two of them. Miles of fabric and flooring and coveting of emotions divided them for the meantime.

Enjolras turned off the lights and the moment Grantaire closed his eyes, he was swept into a skewed version of the dream realm but it wasn’t unfamiliar. Everything around him was dark but he could feel his heart rate accelerate and everything else slow down dramatically.

Suddenly, he was in the passenger's seat of a car that sat low to the ground, it was night time but there was no moon or stars, just a pitch black void that seemed hungry. The car wasn’t moving but Grantaire knew it was. Everything outside was moving past the car but the car wasn’t moving like it would if someone was driving. He looked over in the driver’s seat, expecting his father to be driving, but no one was there. Springing into action, Grantaire climbed the armrest and cup holders, grabbing ahold of the wheel in fear of his life in the car. He tried to press on the breaks but the car had no pedals for him to control it with, the wheel of the car making his hands go numb every time he touched it. Even though he hated the sensation, he kept his right hand firm on the wheel and reached back with this left to grab the seatbelt.

Grantaire struggled to find the seatbelt, his hand scrambling in pitch black, too afraid to turn his face back and take his eyes off the road to find it. His fingers fumbled across the course strap and pulled hard, his breath getting louder and louder as he could feel panic spread across his chest. The numbing sensation creeped up his hand to his wrist and by the time he buckled his seatbelt, his whole right arm was numb and he couldn't feel it anymore. His lungs felt like fire, like he has swallowed a match or was driving in the middle of a forest fire. Grantaire was too scared to bring his other hand to the wheel, afraid he’d lose feeling in it as well but he hated driving like this with one arm. Sweat began to start dripping down his forehead. Checking the rear-view mirror for his reflection, he saw a pair of red glowing eyes staring back at him from the back seat. They were beady and evil but strangely familiar and Grantaire hated it.

Flashing his eyes back to the road ahead of him, he wasn’t driving on the road anymore. He wasn’t sure what he was driving on, if he was driving at all. Another wave of panic washed over him, suffocating him almost to the point where he was begging himself to wake up. But everything felt so real, he couldn’t wake up, could he?

He felt something tickle his right ear, his spine tingling with the sensation of someone being too close and trying to talk directly into his ear, the muscles in his thigh clenching with distress. It was a faint whisper, Grantaire could hardly make out the words it was saying. But it was constant, it was perpetual. The noise quietly gnawed at the back of his mind.

Until it didn’t.

All at once every noise stopped, every sensation stopped, everything came to a screeching halt. Grantaire felt uneasy and slowly pried his hand away from the wheel of the car now not in motion, to his knowledge. The drop into silence was so eerie, the eyes in the rear-view mirror now gone.

In a split second everything was worse than it was before. The car suddenly started speeding in the darkness, the wheel going on it’s own accord, the whispering became a screaming. Grantaire fumbled to get his hands back in the wheel but it flew out from his hands and danced, spinning the car around in circles in the void. The eyes weren’t in the backseat but instead a growing presence sag itself in the passenger's seat. When he turned to look, he screamed and the car crashed right into something.

“Taire?? R, are you okay?!” Enjolras’ voice was coated in concern and worry, his hands on Grantaire’s shoulders trying to wake him up. He’d turned a lamp on, the room having a skewed sense to it as only parts of things were lit with light. The clock read 4:35 AM. 

Grantaire suddenly felt the weight of waking up after a nightmare, his breathing became what it was in his dream, he could feel the panic attack coming on. Not only was this embarrassing because he hadn’t had one in years, but he was doing it right in front of Enjolras. Way to put his best foot forward. His chest felt tight as the air he wished he could have escaped him, tears started to form in his eyes.

“Panic,” is all he could say but that’s all it took for Enjolras to  understand. He crawled into bed with Grantaire and held him in his arms, running fingers through his hair and calming “shhing” him. Grantaire’s breathing started to even out, even if it came out in shaky, sometimes violent waves. His chest was still a storming ocean but it was growing calmer. Enjolras wiped away the tears that ran down Grantaire’s face with the cuff of his long sleeve shirt.

Grantaire looked up at him and swore that, in that exact moment, Enjolras had transcended all forms and hardships of their physical reality and became a God. The downlighting on his golden hair made it look like a halo from a Renaissance painting, his dark skin shimmering beneath his sleeping curls. Nothing else could’ve rendered Grantaire calmer than that sight alone.

When he was calm enough to sit up on his own, Enjolras got up and got Grantaire a glass of water from a glass provided by the hotel room and water out of the tap, which was nothing like New York water. Enjolras sat close but on the opposite side of the bed, facing Grantaire. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

For once, Grantaire genuinely did.

“Yes…” He sat for a moment and pondered how to accurately describe his dream in a way Enjolras could understand. How to accurately describe who he was before and what’s been happening this entire trip.

“I haven’t told this to anyone really, Ponine only knows some of it and it’s because we were horribly drunk when I did...and I don’t like treating my friends like some sort of psychologists because I know they’re not but─”

“It’s okay,” Enjolras cooed, his hand grasping at one of Grantaire’s. He ran his thumb over Grantaire’s hand as a gesture to continue what he was saying.

He took a deep breath and blinked slowly, collecting his thoughts.

“When I was young, my father took it upon himself to sign me up for boxing lessons in the next city over from where we lived at the time. The lessons ended late, by time I got out, it was night time already. On the way home, he would say...the meanest things to me. Make me feel genuinely horrible about myself,” Grantaire felt his throat tighten with the swell of emotions but kept talking, even as his voice got hoarse.

“As I got older, my mother did the same but on more of a guilt basis. Like gaslighting, I guess you could call it. Anyway, it got to the point where they’d leave, inexplicably, for no reason at all and not tell anyone. Which was fine by me, I was a teenager and wanted the alone time. But it cause a gap between us...me and my parents...which caused them to say some ugly things. Things I can’t…” Grantaire froze, his eyes searching for words he couldn’t find. His brain blanked and left him speechless, nothing for him to continue with. For the first time that night, his eyes met with Enjolras and he could see the hurt the other man had been experiencing and suppressing for so long. The anguish he must be feeling now. He stumbled over his words, and Enjolras let him, not interrupting or giving an affected glance the entire time. 

“I don’t remember much. I chose not to, but every so often I’ll think of it again and it’s scary. I haven’t had a panic attack in...since I left. No, that’s a lie, I had a panic attack when I was living with Ponine for my first couple of month in New York. I had blocked their numbers on my phone and all social media I could possibly think of. But it was Christmas time and everyone says you have to ‘love your family’ and they’re really talking about your blood family, not those who you really hold strong bonds with. They expect everyone, regardless of situation, to fork over blind, unconditional love and support for blood family members when so many people experience trauma from those exact people everyday. It made me so mad I began to think of everything and I ended up sitting balled up on her living room floor covered in my own mucus… it’s ugly I know.”

Enjolras shook his head and offered the first real comment of the night. “No, it’s important. You undermine yourself so much, but you have family, real family, who loves you unconditionally, no strings attached. Plus I’m sure with all the blood you and Bahorel spilled in our college days, you two are pretty much blood family at this point.

Grantaire smiled with Enjolras, he appreciated the sentiment in trying to make him smile and feel better as he confessed his entire, unknown truth to him. They sat there in the bed for a while, Grantaire setting down the glass and inviting Enjolras closer than he was. Enjolras turned off the lamps light and crawled into bed with Grantaire. They faced each other and tangled arms and legs haphazardly under the plush covers. Grantaire fell asleep to the heartbeat and steady breathing of Enjolras, let his senses be filled with scents of the ocean scented detergent he used to wash his pajamas in and the feeling of soft cotton under his fingers.

 

* * *

 

Grantaire woke up Friday morning with the sun shining subtly into the room and tucked underneath the comforter of the bed. When he opened his eyes, Enjolras was the first thing he saw. He saw standing up on the other side of the room, dressed in his pajama bottoms but he put on a fresh shirt from the one he had on last night. Last night, as Grantaire will forever remember it as, the most unscary form of self-expression and opening up he’s ever had. He was glad that if anyone were to know what really was happening in his head, it was Enjolras, and partially Éponine. But that girl already knew too much about him anyway, the brat.

He smiled as soon as Enjolras met his gaze, a look of warmth spreading across Enjolras’ face.

“Good morning sunshine,” he said, even though Grantaire thought of him as the true sunlight.

“Good morning,” Grantaire replied back, sitting up in bed and getting to his feet. As he stretched his back from the bad posture while sleeping, he checked the time, the clock reading ‘11:30’. “It’s a bit late, don’t you think?”

Enjolras looked at the time but shrugged. “I didn’t want to wake you. Plus, I got room service to come around and bring us breakfast, thought it’d be a bit more cozier. I’m really digging this place’s vibe.”

Grantaire found himself floating over to Enjolras, or perhaps to the bathroom but slightly off-course. Whatever the fact, he found himself wanting to close the distance between the two of them, to reach up and trace Enjolras jawline with his finger and meet his lips to his. Enjolras’ gaze flickered over Grantaire’s face, searching for something from his lips to his eyes.

Then there was a knock at the door.

“Perfect timing!” Enjolras cheered, trying his hardest not to sound too sarcastic.

They ate on Enjolras’ bed since it was more in front of the tv, reruns of American Dad playing on one of the channels Grantaire was flickering through, a tv show that normally came on during Adult Swim hours but was somehow playing at noon on a Friday.

They left the lodge soon after finishing breakfast, packing their things and returning the room key to the front desk, getting onto I-15 S, Las Vegas being their destination. Enjolras was excited about Vegas. He’d never been, only had seen the glowing lights from outside his plane window whenever his parents would bring him along when they went to Lake Tahoe. Even from the plane, with a haze of clouds and atmosphere in the way, Vegas lights shined through it all, inciting such curiosity in Enjolras.

Nothing romantic had happened between the two as far as stereotypical intimacy went, even though every cell in Grantaire’s power wanted to do something. What better way, he thought, then to have their last stay in a hotel before going home than going to the most romantic hotel in all of Vegas. Who knows, maybe after experiencing a week with his parents, Enjolras wouldn’t be as interested in Grantaire as he is now. Better to have it now than never, Grantaire figured. Even if he knew Enjolras would never act differently towards him, the affection Grantaire had for Enjolras could only be, if it ever was, equal now or never. He wanted to seriously win him over. 

The hotel was the Paris Las Vegas hotel, a fairly popular but inexpensive four star hotel that had a miniature Eiffel Tower that stood 540 feet tall. He had been to it before, many years ago, as well as a handful of other hotels on the Las Vegas Strip. Quite a dark time, if he remembers correctly. 

Much of Nevada, to Enjolras’ surprise, was desert and bare lands with patchy grass occasionally. It wasn’t anything compared to the lush forests and beautiful fauna of Colorado or Salt Lake City. But Grantaire made the van trip lively, the five hours feeling drastically short from their normal nine hour van excursions.

When they got to the hotel, it was still light outside, which was an outlier in the pattern. Usually it consisted of them rolling up to the hotel when the sky was black and there was only one room available, which clearly wasn’t a problem now.

They checked in, getting a room with one queen size bed, and replaying the routine of hoping in and off the elevator and playing the numbers game of finding their room. It was around six thirty then, Grantaire asking Enjolras if he wanted dinner.

“Did you bring anything a little dressy?” Grantaire asked.

“I brought a button up for when we met your parents. Does that count?”

“That’s perfect. Put it on,” Grantaire said.

Enjolras was confused but when he asked him why, he was told not to worry about it. He put his trust in Grantaire so far, he wasn’t about to stop.

Grantaire dressed himself in a white button up with a black blazer that fit him stunningly, Enjolras had to keep himself from staring and making goo-goo eyes for too long.

At first, Enjolras didn’t see why Grantaire had made a fuss about his attire, the restaurant they were at was nothing too exciting that he had to dress semi-formally. But Grantaire footed the bill and gave a wink to Enjolras as he sucked on a complimentary mint.

That’s when Grantaire led him on, venturing to the Chateau Nightclub. Up a spiral staircase, the main floor of the bar was illuminated with golden light, luxurious booths around wooden tables with singular candles. It was located beneath the Eiffel Tower connected to the hotel, the intricate design of metal lit with the same golden light as the inside. Outside, from every angle, you could see the iconic Las Vegas Strip.

Enjolras basked in the treatment Grantaire wanted to give him. They were seated fairly close to the outside rim of the club, Grantaire starting to drink casually. Enjolras went for the red wine, the plan to drink water the rest of the night. But soon he was ordering whatever Grantaire was having, himself having no real knowledge of alcohol. Grantaire and Courfeyrac, as well as some others in their friend group, were casual drinkers and knew exactly what was in their drink when they tasted it. Enjolras just tasted the fruity tang with a hard kick at the end, making his taste buds dance.

They sat relatively close the whole night, not once their outer thighs losing contact and suddenly the booth felt a lot bigger. From above them, they could hear the thumping of a beat, the upstairs being the actual dancing part of the club. A DJ was clearly having the time of his life up there.

“Wanna go?” Grantaire offered when he saw Enjolras look up in wonder.

“Maybe if I were five years younger and a little more wasted. I’m more than happy sitting right here,” Enjolras put his hand on Grantaire’s hand resting in his leg. 

Grantaire watched this, followed Enjolras’ movements with his eyes till he looked up and met his eyes. There was a sparkle in Enjolras’ light blue eyes, but whether it was the golden light or the alcohol was anyone’s guess. Grantaire felt Enjolras lean in closer, his forehead resting on Grantaire’s.

In a quiet voice, Enjolras whispered so only Grantaire could heat, “can I kiss you?”

Without hesitation, Grantaire closed the gap, pressing his lips against Enjolras’ in the slow kiss. Before it dragged on too long and Grantaire got hot and bothered, he pulled away and hurried along the bill.

Grabbing his card back he looked at Enjolras, their exchanges looks both saying ‘lets get out of here’. They kept their hands off of each other for the time they got to the elevator and the elevator ride, complete strangers being in their with them definitely keeping them from excitedly pressing themselves against each other. 

When Grantaire closed the door behind him, Enjolras sat down on the bed, watching with hungry eyes as Grantaire walked towards him, ready to fully devour him. Enjolras pulled him on top of him, Grantaire’s legs positioned on either side of Enjolras’. Grantaire kissed every inch of new skin he was exposed to, Enjolras definitely being one for butterfly kisses and small whispers of praise. Enjolras took time and ravished every one of Grantaire’s hidden, and not so hidden, tattoos that littered his body, which turned him on more than it really should’ve. Every movement, every stroke, every ghost of a hand felt right, like their bodies were meant to sync together in a symphony of moaning and small ‘yes’s. Their names becoming prayers to each other quickly. Grantaire hadn’t prayed in a while but gladly got on his knees for Enjolras, his new patron saint. His new muse.

Enjolras was still panting, trying to catch his breath with a permanent grin painted on his face when him and Grantaire both finished. Sweat dotted the pillows but he didn’t seem to mind, what he was amusing himself in was the swarm of excited and utterly in love butterflies fluttering around in his chest. The taste of Grantaire’s smile against his. What a difference hours and miles could make.

 

* * *

 

“Do we really have to get up?” Grantaire groaned, Enjolras’ arms securely around him, his fingers tracing circles into his back.

“Eventually. Today’s the big day,” Enjolras smiled, pushing his nose against Grantaire’s.

Grantaire’s groaned at the touch, tapping his fingers up Enjolras’ spine. “I wish it wasn’t.”

Enjolras laid still for a while, his eyes fluttering shut, Grantaire thinking he might be off to sleep again. “We don’t have to go if you really don’t want to.”

Grantaire rubbed his cheek against the pillow, slowly detaching himself from Enjolras in an effort to get up and get the day started. “I know, but we’ve come this far.”

Enjolras rolled onto his back, the light radiating off his skin making it look like it was made of actual gold. Grantaire wish he had his phone to take a picture, but a mental one was good enough. He was absolutely positive the basking god would appear somewhere in his art sometime soon.

“No, I’m serious,” Enjolras said, stretching his arms and back, arching his body off the bed. “It’s no trouble looking up flight times and making it back to New York by the end of the day.”

Grantaire laughed, “hold onto that, just in case.”

They left Paris at noon, Grantaire explicitly procrastinating and not wanting to hop back in the car with Enjolras to drive to his inevitable doom. It was another 250 mile drive from where they were to L.A., most of the leg being desert and mountains, uneven grassy land with spotted trees no taller than the ones planted around New York to make it look less like a concrete jungle.

Enjolras noticed how much antsier Grantaire was getting the closer they got to L.A., him taking a right on exit 150 so Enjolras could ‘enjoy a much nicer scenic route’ even when their trip was nothing but beautiful scenic elements. He started tapping on the wheel more, checking his rear-view mirror like someone was following them, which hardly anyone was. Enjolras started checking flight times on his phone, there was a flight to New York City from the LAX Airport in three hours if Grantaire really couldn’t do it. And Enjolras couldn’t blame him if he couldn’t, he’d be nothing but supportive because he really cared for him. But he wasn’t going to push him to leave if Grantaire believed he could confront his seven year ghosts. All Enjolras could do was wait for Grantaire to make his decision, which came quicker than he expected.

It was all getting to Grantaire far too much. The pressure, his past, his god-awful dream he’d had back in Salt Lake. Right outside of Pasadena, he the car over and pressed his forehead to the top of the wheel.

“I don’t know Enjolras, I really don’t…” He couldn’t finish his sentence because even he didn’t know where it was going.

Enjolras nodded, reaching out and rubbing his back. “Why do you think you _have_ to, even after everything?”

Grantaire paused and thought, really thought, about how he should phrase and vocalize this nonsensical argument. Verbalizing his feelings and giving them a name was no easy feat.

“Because...even after everything, I still want their love and approval I guess. After everything, I still want something normal and tangliable…” Grantaire threw up his hand in an ‘i don’t know’ gesture, pointing to the endless desert abyss in front of them. Cars passing by completely unaware.

Something about the way he spoke, the ‘normal’ he secretly craved as he saw everyone else have fathers and mothers who genuinely loved them and cared for them. Hell, Grantaire had been invited over so many places where Enjolras’ own parents had done nothing but fawn over him and shower him with love as Grantaire smiled with courage in the background. He had seen Éponine separate herself and her siblings from their awful parents but grow incredibly close, Gavroche and Azelma owing all their accomplishments to Éponine because she tried her hardest to make their lives normal. Enjolras’ parents being loving and supportive after a while was normal. Jehan’s parents buying five copies of Jehan’s books just to show their friends around the dinner table was normal. It was all something Grantaire had never, and never will, have because his parents being the absolute demons they were wouldn’t let him have the normal, unconditional love a family should offer.

Grantaire looked back at Enjolras, who was lost in this thought process, running through every time he could possibly think of when Grantaire had been nothing but supportive whenever one of them ventured out to do something. That wasn’t a learn habit Grantaire adopted from two people who were supposed to raise him to do so. That was something Grantaire developed himself, even if he was cynical and was ready to counter argue whatever it was in a heartbeat. He learned himself to be kind and loving because he had no role models to get those qualities from. When Courfeyrac announced he was going into a new profession for the third time, this time marketing, Grantaire poked fun at him at first but taught him the bare essentials of graphic design from when he experimented with it in college. A fire lit in Enjolras.

“Well...they don’t deserve you.” Enjolras’ brows were knit in the way they used to whenever he became suddenly passionate about something. Grantaire smiling to himself, that’s the young spitfire he’d fallen in love with years ago. “You’re so talented and kind and sacrifice so much for those you really care about, everyone back in New York.”

His voice started to get a little louder like he was standing on his old soapbox in the middle of the back room of the cafe they used so many years ago. “Who gives a fuck about them R?! No really, sure they birthed you into this world and housed you for 18 years but they aren’t your family, not really. They haven’t seen you for the truly amazing person you are. If they can’t accept that you’re the most perfect thing in their pathetic little lives, then they don’t deserve you.”

His cheeks were turning a bright pink and suddenly they were both 22, sitting in creaky wooden chairs and talking about politics and the world crashing down around them. Grantaire smiled, trying to keep himself from crying over Enjolras’ small fit of passion. Enjolras met his eyes, his soft dark blue eyes and they both surged forward, catching each others lips in a heated kiss, Enjolras pulling hairs at the back of Grantaire’s neck.

“Let’s go home,” Grantaire whispered just loud enough for Enjolras to hear. Enjolras smiled and kissed the corner of Grantaire’s mouth before letting the strained seatbelt grab him back to his seat. 

“Plus I already know you had the flight times pulled up.”

Enjolras laughed and punched Grantaire in the arm. He was ready to go home.

 

* * *

 

They took turns sleeping over at each other’s place, but they both preferred Grantaire’s place, even if neither of them vocalized it. His apartment was bigger out of the two and had minimal furniture making it more spacious, which was something that please Enjolras’ weird aesthetics. His apartment was smaller but more in the inner city, full of stuff his parents bought him. Plus, Enjolras was fond of the casual cat friends Grantaire had acquired over his time there.

December 25th hit calmly, waking Grantaire up to butterfly kisses from Enjolras on top of him, his seemingly perfect, white teeth dragging across skin sending shivers up Grantaire. The apartment was meltingly warm, the snow gathered up around the windows and lining the streets below. Coffee danced in the air and just before leaving for Bossuet, Joly, and Musichetta’s, Grantaire wrapped a Jehan-scarf around Enjolras, pulling him in close and keeping him their till they were officially late. But no harm.

The couch that comfortably fit four people, squeezed seven and applied for insurance that afternoon. Enjolras sat next to Grantaire on the floor next to the fire, being obnoxiously adorable, Bahorel couldn’t keep himself from having a go at them, but all in good fun.

Éponine arrived last, Azelma and Gavroche barreling in with hot cocoa and trays of baked mac and cheese from Azelma’s work. She winked at Grantaire, immediately whisking herself away with Joly and Cosette in the kitchen. 

Everyone swapped gifts for their annual secret Santas. Gavroche was presented with a small box, no bigger than an adults hand, wrapped in red paper and a green bow. He smiled and opened it, revealing an intricate wooden cube, it looked like an old fashion rubix cube but with gears carved into it. Each side had a detailed puzzle for the person wishing to open it to figure out to get inside. Which there definitely was something inside, Gavroche shook it hearing a tiny rattle of something hitting the sides.

“Interesting. Now he’s gonna start hiding my earrings from me,” Éponine joked, earning a devilish and slightly offended look from Gavroche.

Enjolras looked at Grantaire, who watched as Gavroche tried to crack each side, his mind whirling at many miles an hour.

“Did you get that for him?” Enjolras leaned back and close to Grantaire so only he could hear.

Grantaire nodded and winked, watching everyone else open theirs. Joly got a new stethoscope, Courfeyrac got an envelope full of glitter with a $50 dollar gift card to his favorite clothing shop, Enjolras got a new briefcase with some knitted socks. Grantaire received a fairly large gift, a giant box wrapped in red and white striped paper. He tore it open, revealing a slightly smaller box inside.

“Which one of you hooligans did this,” he said pulling out the smaller box. He already knew what was happening.

Inside that box was a slightly smaller box, everyone having their fun at cracking jokes so much that it was hard for Grantaire to continue opening his present, trying to get ahold of himself and some air to calm himself down. He ended up opening nine boxes before finding a folded piece of paper in the last one, everyone sitting in the edge of their seats to see what it was. The paper had a picture of a dog on it, a golden curly haired dog.

He flashed the picture to everyone in the room.

“Oh, I love goldendoodles!” Bossuet said from his seat next to Feuilly.

Grantaire looked puzzled, before turning to look at Enjolras, who looked extremely guilty.

“You…” Grantaire started. But before he could continue the sentence, Enjolras shrugged with the most smug smile in his face. Grantaire felt the adrenaline rush through him in an instant high.

“I got it!” Gavroche said from his chair in the back, everyone looking over at him. He had completely opened the box, a pair of bluetooth earpods falling into his hand. He was so smart, wanting to major in engineering when he graduated high school in a years time. Grantaire smiled from watching him and the sudden realization that Enjolras adopted them a whole dog.

This was his family. This was who he truly cared about and who truly cared for him. After years of wanting to have something normal and flinging himself into people, hoping to gain something real, he finally found his home. His family.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. 
> 
> You can find me [here](http://queersunflowers.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.


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